


worthy

by gealach



Category: Dark Wolverine (Comics), X-Factor (Comics), X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Death, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-19 10:02:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29997696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gealach/pseuds/gealach
Summary: The Morrigan took something important from Daken.Missing scene fromX-Factor (2020)#8.
Relationships: Daken Akihiro/Jeanne-Marie Beaubier
Comments: 5
Kudos: 11





	worthy

**Author's Note:**

> **THIS STORY IS DEDICATED TO SKETZOCASE.**
> 
> For some months now, sketzocase has been battling with cancer. Yesterday, her sister reached out through sketzocase’s blog, to let us all know that she passed away on Wednesday.  
>  Sketzocase was a force of nature. She was kind, so incredibly kind, and strong, and passionate. She faced her struggles with jokes on her lips, and often found humor in the bleakest of things. This illness was no exception. She even found the time to do what she loved best, drawing and writing. She was always so vibrant with life.  
>  I debated whether I should even post this story - which I wrote between Wednesday and yesterday morning - in the immediate aftermath of such devastating news. But I think she would have loved the irony. She probably would have laughed. She laughed so much in the face of adversity. And I think that if even just one of my readers knew her only from what she posted on the Archive, then that reader deserves to know what happened to her. That she fought and laughed and is not with us anymore. I urge you to remember her, and to reread her stories, and to tell anyone you know that might want to know what happened. Let's not forget her.  
>  Sketzocase was such an important part of our community of Daken-writers, but most of all, she was such an important, beautiful person. And she was my friend. She will be dearly missed.  
>  You can find her sister’s announcement and pay your respects here: https://sketzocase.tumblr.com/post/645387204670160896

**worthy**

No one was coming for him.

It was stupid, that he’d hoped for it, that in these long delirious hours impaled by this damn crossbeam, thoughts swirling, replaying everything the monster that _wasn’t_ Siryn had said and shown him, he still hoped that she was lying about his so-called _team_. That they might have been delayed, tricked. Surely they’d come. Surely -

But that thing hadn’t been lying. She was right. He’d been here for _days_ , he was sure of it; stuck in this blizzard, too weak to move, to free himself, constantly hurting and healing… healing just enough for the circle to begin anew, no more, just enough that he was kept on the brink of consciousness, but that he couldn’t do anything about it. Not even die. As if she _knew_ where to strike, the exact position to leave him in so that he’d be defenseless and stuck. Like Romulus used to do, and no amount of begging, no amount of broken pleas - ‘ _I’ll be good, please master I’ll be good_ ’ - would save him until Romulus decided he was adequately humbled.

Romulus. Romulus had been right: no one cared. Not even… No, not even _her_.

Jeanne-Marie.

She was still scared of him. He’d explained how his powers worked, and she’d seemed convinced, she’d even seemed to care, but perhaps she’d reconsidered. She might have thought that he really was influencing her, and she’d told her brother, and the team, and everyone had decided to leave him to the Siryn-thing.

Why else would Lorna not return his calls? It wasn't as if she had any reason to trust him either. When they’d worked together, before, she’d always kept him at arm’s length: everyone who went against Mothervine knew that they were there only because no one else was available and willing to work with Magneto. Lately, Lorna had been warming up to him, joking around, and then the _team_ had been warming up to him and stopped treating him like a nuisance, even Jean-Paul… But evidently, now they’d realized what kind of thing he was. A worthless cur trying to worm his way in, a liar trying to play at being harmless. They would rightly take Jeanne Marie’s side.

And why should they, should _anyone_ , believe him? They knew what he was. How could they trust him? They didn't care about him.

The only one, the only one who cared about him, who would believe him, who would come for him, was gone, and she could very well never come back.

Or maybe she would be so disgusted, so enraged, so _disappointed_ in him, that she wouldn’t come for him either. Maybe she was back from the Vault, and she’d heard what he’d done, and she’d left him to the Siryn-thing too. They’d left him there, they’d all left him there. No one was coming, no one would _ever_ come, and he’d slip in and out of consciousness in this frozen wasteland for all eternity.

That’s what he deserved, for believing that he had a place in Krakoa. For believing that he could have a _home_ there. So foolish. He should have known better. So damn stupid…

The cold vanished. He was warm, surrounded by scents… people, the Five, Xavier… his team. He wasn’t impaled anymore, he wasn’t freezing; he was covered with slime, fully healed.

He blinked blearily in the sudden strong light. He was in the Hatchery. Had he been resurrected? Why? Why not just get the crossbeam out and let him heal and... had they found him? Had they…

Had they _come_ for him, then?

She’d lied. The Siryn-thing, she’d lied. She’d _lied_. He’d believed her, like… like… like some _stupid_ -

“Welcome back!” Trevor exclaimed, his voice coming from Daken’s left. Still reeling, Daken’s head snapped towards that direction, desperate for a distraction. Focus. Keep it _together_. Get a _hold_ of yourself. The boy was talking to Jean-Paul, who was emerging from an egg. “Boneyard’s haunted.”

“ _What?_ ” the man spluttered.

“Er, yeah, actually -” That was David. He and Trevor seemed to be the only ones who hadn’t died. He’d apparently written a status report to catch them all up; Lorna grabbed it.

Daken stared as she read, painfully aware that Jeanne-Marie was just to his right, covered in goo too. She’d _died_. What the hell had happened? What did it mean, that the Boneyard was _haunted?_

The Siryn-thing, perhaps…? That thing he’d believed, as if he was just a stupid kid again. Hadn’t he _learned_ to recognize when he was being used and lied to? How could he have fallen for it all over again?

He felt Jeanne-Marie’s gaze on him, insistent, urgent. Steeling himself, knowing what he’d see there, he turned.

She wasn’t looking at him with hate or revulsion. She seemed… concerned. She made an aborted motion, her hand rising towards him and falling as she sat up. She looked away, blushing.

She didn’t seem afraid. But how much did she remember? Did she remember what he’d told her, what he’d explained?

Why would she _believe_ him? Why would anyone? They’d never trust him. Yes, they’d resurrected him because they were _heroes_ , because this was what they _did_ , but they’d never trust him. Not a worthless scumbag like him. He should have known that this little experiment, this stupid playing nice, wouldn’t last. He should have known that to these people, he’d never be anything more than a cur. They hadn’t even deigned to retrieve him, had they? So much for the resurrection protocols! They’d just put his mind inside this shining new body, and the real him, the trash, would go on in that harrowing circle in fucking _Montana_ , prisoner of a nightmare reminiscent of Romulus’ worst lessons -

A hand on his.

No, no. The Siryn-thing, the Siryn-thing _lied_. _Just_ like Romulus...

“So, Akihiro…” Jeanne-Marie said softly, squeezing his hand, reining him in, a kind of steely determination in her eyes. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

 _Cold_. He suppressed a shudder, pulled his hand away to hug his legs, thought better of it and tried to assume a confident posture. Cold, and lost, and despairing. Abandoned. They hadn’t left him - he was here, that was proof of it, they _hadn’t_ left him to die, they’d _resurrected_ him - but still it lingered, that childish wail. Worthless cur. Useless. No one cared.

He’d thought he’d learnt to be stronger. He thought he’d learnt not to fall for monsters trying to make him believe such things.

“Being uncomfortably impaled in the snow,” he quipped, praying his voice wouldn’t crack. “You?”

She paled. “Ha! Oh, well… a _bit_ more than that…”

So she remembered. And she believed him, she _did_ , or else she wouldn’t have looked at him like that. As if he was some frail thing. She looked as if she thought that he was going to explode.

As if she _knew_ what he was feeling right now, what he was thinking. His thoughts, swirling and swirling, bile in his throat.

What was he missing? She touched him with such familiarity, her gaze was searching and almost regretful. Last time he saw her, she hadn’t been like this. He was missing some vital information… some interaction between them, perhaps? He knew that the Cerebro backups came at random times, and he and Logan got fewer backups than the others because it was thought they wouldn’t need it as urgently, because they _healed_ -

Had he been rescued, then? Had they come for him, _really_ come, and then he’d spoken with Jeanne-Marie again -

What had he _lost?_

He felt on edge. He’d never _lost_ time before. He’d never _not known_ what was happening, save from those terrible blackouts when he’d succumbed to the Heat drug. He’d always been painfully, uncomfortably _aware_ of everything that was happening to him. And now he’d lost… what, hours? _Days?_

 _Had_ they come?

“Akihiro, listen,” she murmured. Half-beseeching, half-reassuring. “We didn't leave you to die -”

Heart thumping in his throat, he pulled away. Her face fell, she leaned towards him as he stood, but then she straightened up, eyeing him worriedly.

 _Had_ they come, had they _come,_ had they _really -_

He looked around. They weren’t even looking at him, focused on getting their bearings on the situation. Xavier was saying that Siryn-thing was a death goddess. That was a _threat_. Lorna was furious. Had Xavier just mentioned _zombies?_ The others were standing up, getting dressed, readying themselves to deal with the problem. _That_ was what he ought to be doing too, pull himself together and make himself useful. These doubts - these stupid, self-deprecating doubts - were pointless now. He was back, wasn’t he? So they hadn’t left him. Jeanne-Marie had said so too, and she hadn't been lying, her scent painted her as nothing but honest. Case closed. It didn’t matter how he’d left Montana, only that he _had_. It didn’t matter that he probably had made a fool of himself too, if Jeanne-Marie’s expression was anything to go by, that he’d probably been so rattled and raw from his fucked-up encounter with Siryn-thing that he’d _exposed_ himself in such a way that made Jeanne-Marie look at him like _that -_

“D-Daken? Are you all right?”

Trevor. Terribly observant Trevor, he with his thousand eyes. Those eyes were all on Daken now, and there, too, was something that made Daken feel exposed. A sort of worry that Daken couldn’t place, that didn’t _compute_ with his previous dealings with the boy. He wanted to scream, to flee in the face of the sudden attention of the team. They all turned to look at him and Jeanne-Marie, still naked while everyone was dressed already. Jeanne-Marie was still _looking_ at him and Daken… He couldn't even guess what kind of expression he wore, if he was exposing himself like a fool, but judging from the _looks_ he was getting -

“Lorna, give Akihiro the report,” Jeanne-Marie said firmly.

Lorna did, eyeing him worriedly. Daken took the tablet, avoiding her gaze… avoiding everyone’s.

 _We’re investigating Siryn’s multiple deaths_ , the report began. _The first death -_

Daken skimmed the first paragraphs, seeing things he already knew. David must have wanted to be as thorough as possible. He kept reading, uncomfortably aware of the mutated atmosphere as the team tried to go about the proceedings without staring at him, of Jean-Paul trying to silently interrogate his twin as she dressed. Trevor stood by, fidgeting, still staring.

David was _very_ thorough. There was Jean-Paul’s order to tail Siryn, and her interrogation, and -

_Siryn is possessed (?) by the Morrigan. Using Siryn’s sonic hypnosis, the Morrigan forced Polaris to act against the investigation and sabotage it. She avoided all lie-detectors and kept Prestige in the Braddock Lighthouse (@Prestige, see attached recollection by Rogue) by reassuring her that she wasn't needed, while allegeding to the team that she was working closely with Prestige. While we searched for clues amongst Siryn’s friends and family, only finding that Siryn has been isolated (by the Morrigan?), Daken tailed Siryn to Barcelona, attempting to keep in touch with us through phone calls after leaving without fleet seeds. Polaris being his contact, all his attempts were shut down. Unbeknownst to us, the two came back to Krakoa and then used the Alberta Gate. Not knowing yet the danger and accustomed to Wolverine (m) going solo, nobody questioned the loss of contact._

Daken exhaled. Lorna hadn’t taken his calls because she’d been _forced_ to. She hadn’t cut all contact, they hadn't cut all contact. The Siryn-thing - the _Morrigan_ \- had lied. They hadn’t _known_.

That bit about being accustomed to Logan going solo even made sense, as Daken _was_ like his father in this. The irony there was that Daken had gone out of his way to alert the team, especially after Jean-Paul insisting so much. He’d tried so _much_ to act as a teammate, to show he belonged. And they hadn’t even known what was _happening_.

His gaze was already on the next paragraph, seeing his name, wondering what had happened, how he was _here,_ how they’d finally noticed, if they’d really… If they’d _really -_

_Daken faced the Morrigan near Anaconda, Montana and was left for dead (?) possible use of Siryn’s sonic hypnosis (?) Daken hasn’t fully reported yet. According to estimation, his confrontation took place the first day. On the third day, yesterday, Eye-Boy realized that Polaris was lying and alerted the team. Prestige freed Polaris, thus alerting the team to the Morrigan’s threat. Lorna further alerted the team to Daken’s whereabouts, somewhere in Alberta. Northstar took off without waiting for backup and found Daken after a seven-minutes search in an isolated destroyed settlement, impaled by a crossbeam, suffering from a number of injuries. Once the crossbeam was cut, he began healing. The two returned through the Montana Gate. Daken refused to see any healers, though he was visibly still healing._

Two days. Two days left there, stewing in what that thing, that _goddess_ , had forced him to believe, possibly still under the influence of that… that sonic hypnosis. Marinating in doubt and despair, freezing, trapped in his worst nightmare that _she_ must have called forth in his mind, _playing games_ with his mind. She had _known_ what she was doing, she’d put him in a desolated, frozen landscape on _purpose._

And Northstar - Jean-Paul - had _taken off without waiting for backup_ , the possibility of that _thing_ lying in wait pretty high. He’d taken off, heedless of the danger that they now knew about, and…

And he’d _come_ for Daken.

The clinical, matter-of-fact language of David’s report helped. It helped, because he was standing here, in front of his team, his team who’d cared, who'd _come,_ who’d retrieved him. They hadn't abandoned him: they’d been tricked by that monster. That bitch, that bitch had lied, had _made_ him believe that he was alone, had made him feel like he used to, as if he was worthless. But he wasn't worthless, he’d never been. He was _worthy._ He mattered. People cared.

They cared about _him._

The clinical language of David’s report helped, because he felt perilously close to breaking down, but the words helped him stoke the flames into fury, into a sharp objective. They warmed him, after those cold, cold days of despair.

She’d _made_ him go back to that. To that desperate feeling he was trying so _hard_ to claw out of. He was so very tired of monsters making him feel as if he was nothing. He was _done_ with gods playing with him.

The bitch would go _down._

Especially because she’d gone after _his_ team, killing them. The report went on, allegeding how they’d all been probably lulled into a false sense of security, once again, by hypnosis, and had all retired for the night. Trevor had been the only one to sense something was amiss, but he was paralized by fear. The whole team had been trapped in fear, like Daken, they’d all _suffered_ as he had. Lorna and Rachel had been killed in their sleep, expressions of terror on their faces. Daken had had some nightmare, too. David had been similarly affected. Daken and Trevor had narrowly escaped the Morrigan and joined David, who was hiding and had found Jeanne-Marie and Jean-Paul, murdered in a ritual that David went on to speculate about for two paragraphs. Finally, Daken had sacrificed himself to allow David and Trevor to escape, thus allowing David to retain his epiphany about the ritual, and the Morrigan had decapitated him.

But Daken didn’t care about his gruesome death.

The bitch had dared to hurt his _team_. He looked up from the report to reassure himself that they were all _here,_ here and whole and ready to go to war. Just as angry as him.

Still eyeing him, but not with the distrust he’d been tricked into believing was still there. With _worry._ Worry that had been there even before reading the report, before knowing he’d apparently died a heroic death protecting the young, because they _cared_ independently of how useful he was... even if that death did explain why Trevor had focused on him in the first place: he was an impressionable kid.

Worry that had driven Jean-Paul to run for him, heedless of the danger, of what the Morrigan could _do_ to him. The idea that he _and Jeanne-Marie_ had fallen prey to her sadism made Daken’s blood boil.

Seeing him focus on her, Jeanne-Marie got closer again, moving slowly, as if she didn’t want to startle him. “All right?” she asked, her gaze soft and searching.

The mere fact that she’d known he’d _needed_ to read the report, that she’d known what he’d been feeling, filled him with wonder… and with regret, at what he must have lost. He wondered how much he’d bared himself.

He found that maybe it wasn’t a bad thing.

He shook himself. “Yes. Thank you.” He hesitated. “Do you need to read -”

He handed her the report, breath hitching when she shook her head. Oh, let her not remember her death!

“David caught us up. Everyone only... lost a few hours.”

‘ _Not like you_ ’, her tone said. Filled with worry, and longing. He wondered what he’d lost. What he’d lost, because of the damn Morrigan, because of that monster.

But he knew what he’d lost.

He’d lost that feeling of safety, of being _cared about_ by his team. Reading about it in the report, knowing it was there, seeing it now, didn’t make up for losing it in the first place, because his mind still played tricks, because he _still_ kept reminding himself that that worry, that care, was _there_. Because he’d lost the certainty of _experiencing_ it. He’d lost what he must have felt, seeing Jean-Paul come for him, he’d lost the feeling of being comfortable enough to be able to open _up_ to Jeanne-Marie about how he’d felt, trapped there in the snow.

And he knew that he’d struggle again to reach something like that, now. He knew himself enough to know that. He knew that he had lost some kind of growth that he _couldn’t_ just will into being, even if the information was there.

He knew that knowing he was cared for, wasn’t the same as _feeling_ it.

“All right, Akihiro?” Jean-Paul echoed his twin, coming towards him too, holding a pair of pants for Daken. An echo of Jeanne-Marie’s worry in his gaze. Daken wondered if he’d looked like that, coming to rescue Daken in the snow.

No matter now. There was a job to do. There was a monster to put down.

“Yes,” he said, taking the pants from Jean-Paul. Tilting his head, for words of thanks wouldn’t come. He wondered if that other Daken, the one that had reached some healing that was now forever out of his grasp, had been able to express anything to Jean-Paul. There was a certain… care, to Jean-Paul movements, that told Daken that the man was touched by what he’d found in the snow.

Once he was dressed, Trevor came barrelling towards him, launching himself at him. Daken bore the hug - because that was what he was - with stunned shock, staring at those surrounding him. Jeanne-Marie smiled and Jean-Paul smirked and Daken awkwardly patted the boy’s head. All of Trevor’s eyes were squinted shut; seeing Daken die must have really frightened him. David wasn’t so affected: he only looked on with a calm gaze of gratitude… though he inclined his head with knowing eyes.

Daken doubted Jeanne-Marie had shared his struggle, she wasn’t the type, so that begged the question of what had transpired during the previous night, past what David had written… what _else_ Daken had lost. Before, Trevor wouldn’t have dared anything like this open display of affection. It reminded Daken, painfully, of Gabby.

He’d lost this too. He wasn’t the man the boy felt so strongly about. The Morrigan had so, so much to answer for.

“It’s all right,” he tried, clearing his throat. “I’m all right.”

Trevor shook his head, face hidden against Daken’s chest. “I was so scared,” he said very lowly, for his ears only. “And you came. You saved me and David. We wouldn’t have survived without you. You _saved_ us.”

He spoke with a reassuring tone that told Daken, without a sliver of a doubt, that the Morrigan had _taunted_ him the previous night. Probably throwing in his face their first confrontation, her horrid lies. And the boys had heard. And Trevor, transparent Trevor, was trying to comfort him.

Something of his shock, so different from the one he’d worn as Trevor collided with him - because he felt something in his chest, an _ache_ \- must have showed on his face, because Jean-Paul sobered and nudged Trevor’s shoulder.

“All right, let him breathe,” he told the boy. “We have a zombie infestation to tackle.”

Yes. There was hell to pay. That monster had taken so much from him, and hurt them all.

And she would pay.


End file.
